


Flip-Flop Revolution

by KumdoGirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Gen, Identity Swap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KumdoGirl/pseuds/KumdoGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Voldemort casts the killing curse, Harry finds himself in an alternate universe in which he is the potions master and Severus Snape is the boy-who-lived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flip-Flop Revolution

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Focaccia_Bread](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Focaccia_Bread/pseuds/Focaccia_Bread) in the [HPprompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HPprompts) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Due to a magical accident of your choosing, cannon (or your version/mostly cannon) Harry is thrown into an alternate universe where Severus Snape is the Boy-Who-Lived and Harry Potter is the Hogwarts Potions Master. 
> 
> The major change is that Harry and Snape switch places, so this does not take place in Marauder time. Try to keep some elements of cannon in place, such as Dumbledore being headmaster and PS/COS/PoA/GoF/etc. events occurring. 
> 
> I don't care if he is stuck in AU-verse forever or not.
> 
> I don't care about pairings, but please make Harry focus more on how troublesome his new life is instead of focusing on romance. 
> 
> Points if Harry has jealousy issues with Snape being friends with his former friends. 
> 
> Bonus Points if Harry is terrible at potions and has to deal with teaching geniuses at it (like Hermione).
> 
> Double bonus points if people can't tell the difference between cannon Harry and AU Harry, and never find out about the switch.
> 
> Triple bonus points if there is some sort of Hufflepuff conspiracy. Whether it is something fluffy and harmless or on the level of world-domination is your choice.
> 
> Eternal love and infinite bonus points if Harry makes a drinking contest out of things such as how many assassination attempts per day are foiled, mistakes on homework, Umbridge saying *hem-hem*, etc.

            Harry stood in front of Voldemort, trying to control his breathing. This was it, the moment everything had led up to, and he was so very afraid. The thought of the images of his parents calmed him slightly, but he still felt his eyes go wide as Voldemort raised his wand. He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

 

            He came awake slowly, blinking heavy sleep from his eyes. Everything was a blur, which, he realized, was because he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He fished around blindly for a moment, then felt his wand. A small smile flitted across his face at the familiar feeling, and then he muttered. “Accio glasses.” They flew into his hand perfectly, and he rested them gently on his nose, at last able to see again.

            He wasn’t sure what he expected to see, since his last sight had been Voldemort facing him down. Probably he was dead now, but death seemed to be playing tricks on him. He lay on an enormous four-poster bed with green and black trappings. The room around him was clearly a bed chamber, but he could not recall ever being in a bed chamber that preferred green and black as the primary colors. The stone walls of the room reminded him of Hogwarts, and he wondered if he were having some kind of flashback involving the castle.

            The next room was far more inviting than the first, Harry saw at once. A wide window looked out on the Forbidden Forest, although he had a feeling that, like the Ministry windows, this was actually enchanted. Sure enough, when he tapped it with his wand the view changed to a breathtaking overlook in the mountains. Sunlight streamed through pleasantly onto a small table with a couple of chairs, and a little kitchenette. Beyond that bookshelves crowded the walls, only making way for a vast stone fireplace and a few comfy green chairs. There was something decidedly odd about the place, though, because the dominant color, from the plush chairs in front of the fireplace to thick drapes on either side of the window, was green.

            Feeling some trepidation, Harry continued on, entering a room that seemed slightly familiar. There was a large desk with a few scattered papers and other supplies on it, and a wide variety of cupboards and bookshelves surrounding him. Potions books, potions, and rare ingredients were everywhere. He must be in Snape’s chambers, then. But how had he gotten there?

            One cupboard was slightly ajar, and Harry caught a glimpse of silvery light from a pensieve inside. Was this more of Snape’s memories? Perhaps it would tell him something… He tentatively touched the smooth surface with his finger and found himself pulled into a world he had never experienced.

 

            The first memories were clearly of him as a child. At least, that’s what he thought until the messy black hair fell to one side and he caught sight of a smooth forehead and he noticed that the Hogwarts uniform showed a Slytherin badge. Still, the messy hair, green eyes, and glasses seemed much the same.

            “Harry Potter.” Harry jumped and turned around, but the speaker did not seem to notice. Harry recognized Professor Slughorn as he had been when he was younger and had taught potions before. Harry’s lookalike bowed his head slightly and murmured a quiet, “Yes professor?”

            “Such a talent at potions. A shame you can’t seem to keep yourself out of trouble. Well, a little scrubbing cauldrons won’t hurt.”

            The scarless Harry went meekly to scrub the dirty cauldrons while Harry gaped. What was going on? Then the memory shifted.

 

            He was in Dumbledore’s office, staring at the headmaster as if he alone could have all the answers.

            “I know you have no love of Voldemort, and I know this has put a divide between you and your fellow classmates. What I am asking you to do would seem to go against all this. These are dark times, indeed, and I am afraid of the power our new dark lord seems to be obtaining.”

            “You want me to spy for you? Surely a Gryffindor would be more suited to that kind of work. I’m sure any number of them would be happy to show off their stupid bravery by attempting to infiltrate the ranks of the most powerful legilimens in the world.”

            “And how long would one of them survive, I wonder,” murmured Dumbledore sadly. “I fear the moment one of their friends was in danger they would rush to the rescue, and in so doing reveal themselves. But you, you can calculate the risks and rewards of each action. You know how to hide in the shadows. You are a more powerful occlumens than even I am. I can think of no one else more perfectly suited for the job,” he finished, a slight twinkle in his eye once more. “What say you, my boy? Are you willing to do what it takes to defeat Voldemort?”

            Harry shifted his gaze to the side and nodded reluctantly. “Very well.”

 

            More memories went by in a daze. Harry couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This was him… These were his memories… But they were so wrong that he couldn’t make sense of them. He caught a snippet of the prophecy, and reported to Dumbledore that Voldemort believed the Snape family to be the ones it mentioned. He seemed particularly concerned that Eileen Prince be saved, and Dumbledore reassured him that it would be so.

            He saw himself weeping as he learned that Tobias Snape and Eileen Prince had both died to Voldemort’s wand, unconsoled by the revelation that their baby boy, Severus, had reflected the killing curse, thus ending the war.

            Finally he saw himself accepting a job at Hogwarts as the potions master and head of Slytherin house. And then he plunged out of the memories back into Snape’s…. No, _his_ chambers.

            The memories were there. They did not seem fabricated or tampered with like the memory Slughorn had showed him so long ago. Every detail worked with every other detail to create a compelling portrait of his life. So why did he remember something so wildly different? What was real? He had to speak to Dumbledore. Then he paused. Dumbledore was dead. Except…. He did not remember Dumbledore dying in the pensieve memories. Again he wondered what was real and decided to head to the headmaster’s office.

            The first door he opened led into a storeroom and laboratory, but the second deposited him in the dungeons where he quickly got his bearings.

            As he hurried through the castle, Harry let himself take in the sights around him. He saw no students, but the castle showed no signs of a recent battle, either. There was no damage anywhere. All the suits of armor stood rigidly in their places, and Harry saw that there was a thin layer of dust on them. The portraits occasionally glanced at him, but seemed to think there was nothing unusual in Harry Potter sweeping down the corridors in thick black robes.

            When he reached the gargoyle guarding the staircase to the headmaster’s office, Harry realized that he did not know the password. He was about to name every muggle candy he could remember, when a familiar voice called out.

            “Harry, my dear boy. Do come in, won’t you? The students arrive tonight and I wanted to say a few things.”

            Harry turned and nearly gasped in shock. There was Dumbledore, alive, whole, complete. His arm showed no darkness. His eyes twinkled merrily under half-moon glasses.

            “Lifesavers,” announced Dumbledore to no one in particular, and then waltzed up the now-open staircase. “Do come along, Harry.”

            Harry shook his head slightly and came to his senses. There was nothing to do but go along.

            The office was exactly as he remembered it. Silver instruments whistled imperiously in various corners of the office, and the portraits of various headmasters stared down at him with mild disapproval.

            “Lemon drop?” asked Dumbledore.

            “No thank you.”

            Dumbledore popped the candy in his mouth and smiled benignly.

            Harry started first. “What’s going on?”

            “We are about to discuss a few things before the new students arrive for the sorting and feast,” replied Dumbledore patiently.

            “No. I mean… You’re dead,” he blurted.

            “My dear boy, I am right here in front of you, and I assure you, I am no ghost.”

            “I saw you die. Snape killed you.”

            “Severus?”

            “Yes.”

            “I can’t imagine he would do any such thing, though of course I’ve only seen our boy-who-lived as a baby.”

            So the memories in the pensive were real after all.

            “It’s just, I remember that happening.” Harry let out a brief explanation of his memories.

            Dumbledore sucked on the lemon drop thoughtfully. “I’m afraid you must have had one of those vivid dreams we were talking about. Do please remember to take the dreamless sleep potion next time you’re feeling like that.”

            Harry couldn’t believe what was happening. Everything was so different in his memory, but if Dumbledore said that never happened, then it must not have. Only, it felt very real to him. He allowed Dumbledore to continue as though nothing was wrong, however. Apparently Severus Snape was coming to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore was hoping his favorite potions master, one Harry Potter, would be willing to keep an eye out for the boy.

            Harry agreed reluctantly to the request. He had nothing but unpleasant memories regarding Snape, although Dumbledore seemed to think those memories focused more on Tobias Snape and Eileen Prince, the boy’s dead parents. Harry decided to let him think that.

            Then a terrible thought occurred to him. He was rubbish at potions. What was going to happen when he was expected to teach a bunch of students of all years? How could he possibly pretend competency?


End file.
